Out of my system
by wsinclaire
Summary: Set a few weeks after "Under Covers". Ziva can't get Tony's comment out of her head, and decides that two can play that game.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: M

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended; these characters belong to NCIS, I own nothing.

Pairing: Ziva D./ Tony D.

WS

"Don't flatter yourself, David. It was the perfect opportunity to get you out of my system."

These words echoed around her head for hours after they had been spoken a few days ago, and not just that, they had a nasty tendency to creep up on her whenever she wasn't paying attention. At work, in the car, at the store, in the middle of the night, or right now.

"Out of his system?" Ziva asked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She put down her toothbrush and wiped pepperminty foam from her mouth.

"Out of his system?" she said it again, looking into her own eyes. She bit her lip and stood up straight. Her instant urge was to smash the mirror with one hard blow, but she resisted. There were other options, too, she just couldn't think of any right now. She could kill him, of course; but then again, that wouldn't make the words unsaid.

No.

She'd have to come up with something better than that.

X X X

Tony DiNozzo arrived home at approximately 11:30 pm.

Half-heartedly he schlepped to his front door, turned the keys in the lock, and pushed it open. These gym sessions were a pain in the ass and getting worse. At one point mid balancing on a Swiss Ball in the most undignified position he felt like walking away from it all, getting a greasy burger with double fries, watching some idiotic spring-break themed movie, and putting his feet up. After all, it was a Friday night. What was he even doing at the gym?

Keeping fit was a bitch, and he knew full well eternal youth didn't exist, and yet he persisted. Ah, vanity.

Once inside, he slammed shut the door behind him and switched on the lights. From the corner of his eyes he saw a figure.

"Ziva," he gasped, unable to conceal the fright she'd given him.

"What the hell are you doing here? I could have punched your lights out." He threw his gym bag onto the floor and ruffled his hair.

Ziva gave him a sarcastic grin.

"What? You think I couldn't take you in a fight?" he laughed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again when it became apparent she wasn't going to say anything.

"I could not sleep," she finally answered.

He nodded slowly, not understanding at all, and almost involuntarily looked her up and down.

The room suddenly became very still, the silence drowned out only by the sound of the blood rushing through his ears.

"And so you put on a cocktail dress and broke into my apartment?" he asked, his voice cool and collected, despite the fact that she was wearing not just any old cocktail dress, but _the_ dress. The dress! The green dress that almost made him lose his mind on their last assignment. That dress was bad news. Very bad news.

"Ziva?"

No answer, still no answer, only those eyes looking back at him. He felt his throat getting dry, closing up. Water. Had he had enough water? He probably just needed a sip of water, but walking away from her eyes felt even more impossible than trying to conjure up a rational thought. Plus, it wasn't often that she let him indulge in looking into her eyes, and now that she did, he was suddenly, if not expectedly, positively mesmerized.

He walked towards her like a lion stalking his prey, and with each step, the silence got louder.

Inches apart now, he watched her eyes dance to his lips and back up to his eyes again, and then he knew.

"Agent David, have you come here to play?" he whispered, and her expression changed suddenly and completely, like he had pulled her out of a trance.

She was trying to compose herself, maybe wrecking her brain for a smart come-back.

"I," she started, but he wouldn't let her finish.

"Shut up, Ziva," he whispered and quickly pressed his mouth onto hers, pushing her further into the wall like he was afraid she could get away. Or hurt him. The last thought was quickly eradicated, because Ziva opened her mouth and kissed him like her life depended on it.

Things got completely out of hand quickly, and next thing Tony knew, they were on the floor, Ziva wearing nothing at all anymore, him with his pants around his ankles. He quickly freed himself from the remaining items and tried to ignore the fact that they were about to do it on the floor of his apartment. Like a pair of teenagers, except that this was different. So different.

The little noises she made were familiar and so sexy he feared he was going to come just from listening to her. He kissed her, and teased her, his hands and lips all over her incredible body, until she was begging him.

She came moments later, and when he joined her, he came out with random words that made no sense, and her name. Over and over, her name.

He flopped down beside her, and missed the warmth of her body immediately.

"God, Ziva," he huffed. He wasn't sure what to say now, drowning in post sex haze with her taste still on his lips.

Her laugh surprised him, and he opened his eyes and looked at her.

"I did not think it would be over so quickly," she giggled.

"Well, sorry, Miss David, but you weren't exactly setting a very leisurely pace. And, coming to think of it, you even beat me to it," he smiled a cocky smile at her.

"It was not a race. Tony."

"Wasn't it?" he rolled to his side, and ran his finger around the edges of her bellybutton.

She laughed again and wiggled on the floor. "Ouch. And I think I have carpet burn."

"Well, Ziv-ah. We better get you to bed then. I'd hate for that to get worse."

She looked at him quizzically, but he was having none of it. "What? In half an hour I'm ready for round two," he assured her. A moment passed, and when that rare gentle stillness returned between them, he pulled her towards him by her neck and kissed her deeply. "You didn't think you could come to my house in the middle of the night dressed like that and not get screwed senseless, did you?"


	2. Chapter 2

Rating: M to be save

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended; these characters belong to NCIS, I own nothing.

Pairing: Ziva D./ Tony D.

Let's face it, you've all seen "Under Covers", right, so you'll get it.

Thank you everybody for reading, I hope you enjoy. x

WS

When he finally managed to tear himself away from her and get off the floor, his right knee made a series of cracking sounds.

"Are you getting old? Tony?" she asked sweetly, sat up and smirked at him.

Crazy hair, Tony thought. She had crazy hair. How did she manage to tame that crazy hair every day?

"Or are you just out of practice?" he heard her asking and snapped out of cuckoo-land.

"Very funny, Ziv-ah. I spent two hours at the gym tonight, and I just set the world record in making you come, so please; give me a break."

She cleared her throat, and he would have paid good money to have seen her blush right then.

"Do you have some water, please? I have a dry throat," she asked and stretched her neck.

"That's all that heavy breathing, Ziv-ah," he whispered, regarding her through half-closed eyes, a cocky smile on his face.

"Yes, well, I know you need a lot of encouragement. Tony. I did it for you." Her reply was sharp yet smooth.

"Ha ha," he fake-laughed and turned his back. "Water coming right up. You know where the bedroom is."

In the kitchen Tony ran the tap for ages, waiting for the water to run as cold as it got, then gulped down a full glass.

He shook his head. At himself, at Ziva, at the world, he didn't know. Surely this had to stop... in fact, he thought it had, and then she had to come waltzing in again in that damn dress, with the crazy hair and looking at him with those eyes.

Half of the time he didn't know whether he wanted to screw or strangle her. Careful what you wish for, DiNozzo, he thought. He'd been desperate for another night with her, yes, desperate... and here she was, and the only truth was, that he couldn't get enough of her.

He filled up the glass again, and walked quietly to the bedroom.

Ziva had half covered herself with the sheet and was in the process of stretching her ridiculous body. She looked like the cat who got the cream.

Tony quickly sipped some water.

"Where is mine?" she pouted, and he shrugged.

"I've got you all over me and vice versa, we can drink from the same glass, don't you think?"

She let out a soft laugh and stretched her arms above her head, the sheets re-arranged themselves, and Tony tried not to stare.

She looked so good in his bed, and it had been such a long week, and he hadn't been sleeping well, and suddenly the horrible truth, the thing he dreaded the most, came to mind. The crazy words almost tumbled out of his mouth, and suddenly his thoughts were racing each other, and before he knew it he had drenched Ziva with a full glass of cold tap water.

"Tony," she screamed and shot up. "What..."

"Sorry, Ziv-ah," he said her calmly, like he'd been planning this all along, like it hadn't been a crazy reaction to make himself shut up.

"Careful, Tony. You are walking on little ice," she warned.

"Thin ice, Ziva. Thin ice. You looked like you could use a cold shower for a moment there."

"It does not matter," she raised her eyebrows. "I will not have to sleep on the wet patch tonight." She gathered the dry part of the sheet and slowly, so slowly rolled to his side of the bed. Her crazy hair was wet and all over her face, her stomach glistened from the water. Had this been any other woman, he might have even congratulated himself, but this was not good at all. This image was now forever in his head, and there was nothing he could do now to make this unseen. He could feel himself getting hard again already, just by looking at her. Maybe he should ask her to kill him. Make it quick, Ziva, he thought. Get it over with. I need to be done with sleepless nights and this ridiculous, insatiable longing.

Ziva regarded him, and he wondered what on earth she could possibly be thinking right now, and when she smiled with her eyes, and started to look at him, really look at him, he was terrified.

She was caressing the sheets now, rubbing them, drawing small circles.

"These feel nice," she winked, and he didn't have a clue what she meant or wanted. Penny for your thoughts, he thought and kept exploring her dark eyes for a truth.

"Egyptian cotton," he blurted out and felt ridiculous.

Ziva laughed, grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him towards herself and in a silly accent said, "Make love to me, Jean-Paul."

"Jean-Paul?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows. A challenge? "You're really asking for it, David, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice light, though he felt like pulling her hair, but he did what he was told. After all, Tony DiNozzo was a true gentleman.

x x x

"My God, what's that you're wearing?" he asked forty five minutes later, holding onto her hot little body, his nose buried in her crazy hair.

"Nothing, Tony," she said, her words almost slurred.

"No, I mean in your hair," he took another deep breath.

"Water?"

"No, what's that smell?"

"Strawberry," she told him, her accent making the word and corresponding fruit appear a thousand times more exotic. She must be the only assassin who smelled of strawberry, he thought, and instead of pulling himself together, he pulled her even closer.

He felt her resist, and try to loosen his grip on her, but he held on.

"Ziva," he whispered and unexpected tenderness hung in the air when she didn't have a wisecrack to hand.

He ran his fingertips down her spine, like he was tracing the distant memory of a lifetime of pleasure.

"Stay," he said, and for a moment everything unspoken hung between them like an apology.

"Sorry. Tony. But I must go."

He swallowed hard and forced a smile. She turned around to face him, her breath on him, her heat burning.

"Come on," he smiled and tucked a strand of the crazy hair behind her ear. "You know you're gonna want some more of this in the morning."

"Actually, Tony," Ziva said slowly, tracing his lips with her fingers, "This was just...an opportunity for me to...get you out of my system," she declared, and with that got out of bed and disappeared out of his arms, his bed, the room.

"Out of her system?" Tony mumbled to himself after he had recovered from her blow.

"Out of your system?" he asked a little louder so she could hear him, but she didn't reply.

"And do you feel that's working out for you Agent David?" he raised his voice.

She reappeared in the doorway. Green dress, crazy hair, dark eyes, shoes in one hand, regarding him.

In that moment he would have promised her anything.

"No. Tony. It is not. And that is why I can not stay," she answered, and before his brain could process the reality of her statement, he heard his front door close behind her.


End file.
